


Severed stomach

by SWModdy



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Din's stomach's gonna be ruined, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Permanent Injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:29:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29860209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SWModdy/pseuds/SWModdy
Summary: After becoming severely injured, Din activates the emergency signals of his ships, hoping that someone responds.Someone does, but that doesn't mean his injury is at an end.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Boba Fett/Paz Vizsla
Comments: 31
Kudos: 190





	1. Hope

Shuddering as he stumbled his way to the cockpit of his loaned ship, Din tried to keep steady even as his vision swam and the pain threatened to down him.

He had miscalculated his bounty, so desperate to not be brought and suffer the consequences for her actions in that she had opted to detonate her own ship than to let Din take her in.

His armor had thankfully taken the brunt of the shock wave and even the heat that had come at him, even as his head was rattled by the force of it all but unfortunately his armor had not taken everything.

Several pieces of durasteel had sunk into his body, some smaller pieces in his left thigh and arm where the armor did not cover.

But the worst of it was in his side, about the width of his hand and the length of his forearm, sticking out from where Din had clamped his hand to the area and Din could feel the shrapnel burn with every breath he took and every step he made, the piece of warped metal sticking out of his side burning as Din futilely tried to press keep himself awake with the pain alone despite loosing blood, hoping to Ka’ra that he wasn’t cutting himself open internally with each step.

He didn’t dare try remove anything though, even as he wobbled with pain all the way to the ship Boba had loaned him.

His feet scruffing over the durasteel of the ramp as he made his way up, Din could only imagine the blood that would pour out if he tried. Removing it faced the risk of bleeding out for sure compared to the blood he had already lost, his supplies weren’t that waste and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to actually do enough for himself to ensure he survived.

Din had only one option, to activate the encrypted distress signals he had loaded up into the ship’s mainframe.

Well, one of them had been uploaded for him by Boba Fett honestly, the man scowling up at him as he told him that if Din was in problem, he was to activate the distress signal and Fett would aid him. Din half suspected that the signal would also activate if the ship wasn’t moved in too long but he hadn’t asked the other bounty hunter. He hadn’t wanted to question the man when he had been generous enough to lend Din a ship and gave him work, gave him purpose after Grogu went with the Jedi.

Din had been adrift, unsure and unmoored and Boba had been there to offer him work, work Din was familiar with on a planet he actually knew. Some might say that Tatooine was a dustball with nothing to show for it but Din enjoyed the warmth of it as long as he stayed out of the hottest part of the suns.

Shand also made for a decent drinking partner, the woman willing to sit there, listen and drink her alcohol as Din let himself empty out all the confusing and painful things left behind when Grogu was gone, never judging Din for doing what he thought was best even if she might not agree.

Honestly, Din wasn’t sure what kind of opinion she had on Jedi, he knew Boba at the very least disliked them if not outright hated them.

Din didn’t judge him for that, Boba had history, that much he knew and Boba’s past was his own thing. Din was in the other man’s debt, not only had he aided Din to rescue Grogu, he had also afterward given him purpose, equipped him and even loaned him a ship.

At this point, Din owed the man much more than he could ever really repay, even if the other bounty hunter and King of Tatooine had grumbled and told him that there was no debt before quickly changing the subject and lining up work for Din, work Din was more than happy to take pro bono.

The other, the one Din had uploaded, was the covert old distress signal.

It had been standard practice, the beroya was the breadwinner of the covert, the one to leave to bring in goods and credits.

But a single mandalorian against the galaxy… if the beroya ended up in problems they couldn’t solve on their own, the distress signal could be activated to summon backup or aid depending on what the emergency was.

Din wasn’t even sure if that particular distress signal would bring anyone to him, but he had to try.

He wasn’t sure how long he could survive with the shrapnel inside of him and Fett was on Tatooine with Shand in the palace, it was at least a four day trip, potentially five depending on the hyperlanes and if there was a planetary storm it could take another day before whatever rescue Fett sent to land.

If anyone from the covert was closer and responded to the signal…

Maybe, in the deep recesses of Din’s mind, he was also hopeful.

Hoping that someone had survived.

Sinking into the pilot chair with a cry of pain, feeling something _shift_ inside of him, Din swallowed thickly and wrapped his arm more tightly around his side, dazedly looking at the dashboard for what felt like hours but must have been minutes, feeling unconsciousness threatening.

He couldn’t let that happen though, not yet, if he didn’t summon help first, he was going to die for sure if it wasn’t already too late.

Swallowing thickly again, Din pulled himself forward with a grunt as his gut felt like it was squishing around inside of him, shakily touching the controls and buttons.

He sent of two alerts and had mind enough to close down the ship and activate its defenses before he let himself sink back into the chair, hoping that one of the two signals would be answered.

The signals sent, Din let himself slowly but steadily sink into the darkness that is waiting on him ever since he got thrown across the muddy ground outside and had shrapnel embedded into his side. If he moves, he will make himself worse, especially in his shaky condition and therefore he has only one option now. To wait, wait and hope someone comes.

His last conscious thought is to send a prayer to the maker that someone will come for him. Because at this point, Din is quite thoroughly helpless as he slumps in the chair.


	2. Paz and Boba

Tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair, Boba ignored Fennec’s sharp look from the side as he continued making noise. He had an excess of energy and needed some way to work it out and since they didn’t have a person Boba could bash into the floor, well, this would have to do.

Outside of the viewscreen, hyperspace flitted by in a shower of bright light and blue and nothing Boba could do would would make things go faster.

Din’s emergency signal had gone of, sent of by the man himself instead of the time limit Boba had installed. Had the cockpit been unused for a week, it would have sent of a message to Boba’s gauntlet but no, Din himself had sent of this one.

It meant that Din, reckless, stupid Din, had looked at himself and realized that he was in severe problems and needed aid and no amount of hailing on the comms had Din responding.

Boba wasn’t sure what that meant.

He could make some guesses of course but wasn’t sure which one would be the right one and human imagination could be so much worse than the truth. So he tried not to imagine what kind of situation Din had landed himself in even as he had stocked the medbay of Slave 1 to the brim with supplies.

The King of Tatooine trusted few, his position was still precarious and leaving wasn’t in his best interest but… Din…

Din, who had such difficulty in asking for aid for himself, Din, who Boba could trust with his own life and business, Din, who could not be trusted with his own life.

Din had asked for help for once and Boba would answer it and where he went, Fennec followed these days.

Plus, regardless how much she might feign disinterest, he knew she was fond of their silver covered mandalorian.

Which was why they were both flying through space to Atanan-V to find their lost bounty hunter.

Hopefully, they weren’t too late.

()()()

Landing the piece of scrap he had ‘borrowed’ from a scrapyard onto the muddy ground, Paz eyed the other ship with trepidation even as he knew there weren’t any living signs around, Paz having scanned the surroundings before he dared to land.

It wasn’t the Razor Crest and he wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Honestly, Paz wasn’t sure what to make of the emergency signal either, still faintly beeping on his gauntlet. Din Djarin was a stubborn son of a bitch and there had only been two instances before the covert was exposed on Nevarro that the di’kut had used it in all his bounty hunter years.

Both times Din had been on the verge of death and had they been any later, Din would not be here today.

If he was alive.

Paz wasn’t sure what he was going to find inside the other ship, if it even was Din.

But it couldn’t be anyone else, only Din, their beroya, had this particular emergency signal.

It couldn’t be sourced from a terminal, the inbuilt code meant it auto destroyed itself after a week, it had to input every week for it to be usable.

A security, to keep the covert safe, to ensure their beroya couldn’t be used for them if caught.

It could only be input by a person that knew it.

Din.

Just Din.

Their beroya, their breadwinner.

Disengaging the ramp of the barely flying scrap metal he had dared to fly, Paz hefted his canon onto his back and made his way out, knowing he needed to investigate, to make sure but not being stupid about it as he scanned the surrounding area with his helmet.

Good thing he did too, picking up the signals that the ship was currently active with defenses.

Paz paused uncertainly, staring at the ship. He wasn’t a slicer, had never had the patience or mind to learn that particular skill and seeing as how he should be visible from the cockpit, it meant that whoever was in there hadn’t disengaged it.

Or couldn’t.

Paz mind flashed to the last time Din had used the emergency signal, to the blood covered cuirass of the beroya as he was transported to the ship that had come to his rescue. ‘I don’t have that much bacta.’ Paz swallowed thickly, shifting on his feet, the mud squelching under his boots, dusky rain falling down around him.

When the signal had arrived, Paz hadn’t _thought_.

Just acted, as he often did if he was honest.

It could be counted as both a flaw and a pro honestly, a pro when in battle, acting quickly often saved his life. But other times, it landed him in situations like this, standing without proper gear and no backup.

The potential of a survivor from the covert had been too alluring, the idea of finding Din again slamming Paz with a need he thought he’d overcome by aiding Din with the foundling.

Standing outside the ship though, Paz wished he had thought to bring someone with him, to fill his ship with better supplies.

Because either Din was not in that ship or he was too injured to move and disengage the protections set in place.

Neither prospect was good.

Grumbling, Paz only got another minute of peace to stare at the ship before the sound of another ship in atmosphere had him tensing, his head snapping up and around to find a spot of growing darkness on the grey sky.

Another ship was approaching.

Enemies?

Or did whoever, be it Din or someone else, send for more aid than the beroya signal. Honestly, Paz hoped it was the latter.

Din would have been alone for a long time and the idea of him having backup was slightly soothing… but Paz wouldn’t know until whoever was arriving landed and since he couldn’t do anything else…

Paz settled to wait, his canon pulled of his shoulder and into his hands just in case as he moved closer to the ship without touching it.

If they were friendlies, they wouldn’t dare shoot on the ship at the very least. ‘Let us hope its allies, eh verd’ika?’ Paz mused as the ship came fully into view, an old Firespray from the looks of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Di’kut = Idiot  
> Beroya = Bounty hunter  
> Verd’ika = Little soldier


	3. Almost

They almost shoot each other, standing there in the shadows of Din’s ship.

That is something neither Boba or Paz will tell Din though, but they almost end up shooting each other as both are paranoid bastards and they’re both concerned.

To be fair, they are both answering different emergency signals, both are unaware of each other and both think the other might be the enemy that caused Din’s current situation.

Thankfully, outside of a warning shot from Fennec at Paz feet, nothing too bad happened… except wasted time.

Time they might not have, especially not with how long it took for them all to get to the planet, the lack of response from inside the ship highly worrying.

“I got the codes to get it open,” Boba grumbled as he made his way past the big shabuir in blue, already typing into his vambrace, his eyes focused on the ship he loaned Din, knowing Fennec had his back. “Din never changed them when he took possession of the ship.” He stated, knowing from the monitor program installed that Din hadn’t.

Paz, his cannon reluctantly shelved for now, nodded slowly. “Sounds like the verd’ika. As long as it wasn’t his personal room, he never bothered to changing codes to anything.” He sighed a bit, shaking his head.

You’d think Din knew better, ensuring his own privacy to rooms only he should have access to.

The ramp thankfully lowered, Boba correct that the codes were the same.

Instantly, all three tensed as the ramp finally extended into the muddy ground.

It was covered in rusty colored blood, dried blood.

Din’s blood.

Hissing slightly, his vocoder crackling, Boba marched up the ramp as quickly as his feet could take him, Paz right behind him with Fennec remaining outside to keep guard just in case. She wasn’t a medical expert, she wouldn’t be much help anyhow.

Following the blood, both males made their way inside, moving through the ships towards the cockpit.

Sending a mental prayer, Boba slapped his hands over the door controller, listening to the hiss as it opened to admit the two.

Instantly, Boba’s eyes fell on Din, the other collapsed into the pilot chair and he felt his breath catch.

Behind him, Paz let out a curse, moving past a frozen Boba.

Din looked _dead_.

His shiny beskar was covered in dried, rusty blood, _Din’s_ blood, shrapnel was sticking out of his side, his arms and his legs. Din was slumped in the chair, his body lose with what Boba hoped was unconsciousness and he couldn’t see the others chest rise and fall.

Boba couldn’t look away from him even as he knows he should move and check on the other, find the medical kit, do SOMETHING.

But he can’t, his attention is on Din and Din alone.

His eyes roam over the way Din is slumped in the chair like a discarded ragdoll, abandoned by a child done playing rough. Can’t look away from the sight of the shrapnel embedded into the others left side, the warped metal as wide as Din’s hand and as long as his arm and Boba can’t tell how much of the blackened metal is inside of the other, how much damage has been done to the other.

Finally however, he manages to force himself forward as Paz yanked his own glove off and pressed his fingers under the helmet to get his pulse, Boba made himself breath as he reached up into the overhead compartment to the left, knowing there should be a medical kit there.

There was, it was fully stocked even from the looks of, the seal unopened.

“He’s alive but barely breathing, his pulse is too slow,” Paz growled out, Boba coming over with the case. “I don’t… I don’t know if we can move him.” He tacked on, deep voice sounding uncertain.

But alive meant there was still a chance.

Opening the case with a small growl, Boba dug through the case. “We can’t remove the shrapnel, he will bleed out in moments,” He agreed, listening to the shifting of armor. “But we can move him if we do this.” He pulled out a bacta injector.

Both stared at it.

The risk of injecting bacta into Din when he had shrapnel inside of him was high, many people suffered permanent organ damage from bacta injections before with shrapnel smaller than what was inside Din.

But they had no other choice and Boba reached out, pushing Din’s head to the side to pull down the high neck of his shirt. ‘If this causes anything permanent, forgive me Din. But I’d rather have you alive.’ He thought grimly as he set it, ordering Paz to find them a stretcher.

Moving Din was taxing, both Boba and Paz hesitating with precious moments while staring at the largest piece of shrapnel and both flinched when they heard an exhalation from Din as he was moved.

It hurt obviously, but Din was too far gone to wake up even with the stimuli.

Thankfully, the hoverstretcher made things easier on them, moving Din to Slave 1 and into the medbay, where Fennec stood watch over their injured bounty hunter as Boba attached him to monitoring equipment with Paz hovering at his shoulder. “…We’re going have to be quick, return to Tatooine as fast as we can. He’s going to become infected by the shrapnel soon enough and it will turn his flesh necrotic.” Boba murmured as he removed Din’s bloody gloves.

His stomach twisted a bit with how stiff with blood they were, how much of Din’s blood must truly be soaked into it.

“I’ll go fetch my stuff, I don’t know the other ship, so Din’s things…” Paz trailed off.

“I’ll do it, I know where everything is. Din didn’t personalize the ship much but I know where his quarters on it are,” Boba grunted before turning to Fennec. “Remove his armor in the meantime, chest, greaves, vambraces but leave the helmet as usually.” He stated sternly, half noting the tenseness of the other mandalorian easing.

Ugh, the Watch and their helmets, made medical care difficult.

Fennec, normally being one for a sarcastic quip, simply nodded, her face drawn tight as she stepped in to work the chest piece off first.

He turned to Paz. “Ten minutes, and I take off. Tayli'bac?” He stated sternly, receiving a quick nod. ‘Just hold on for us Din, just a little longer…’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shabuir = Asshole  
> Verd’ika = Little soldier  
> Tayli'bac? = Got it? Okay? Understand? (Often very aggressive.)


End file.
